Monochromatic
by FuckMePumps
Summary: In a world where appearances are all that matter, and everyone expects you to be perfect, what would hurt the most is when someone you cared for rejected you... or so you thought. Oneshot, TxS.


**a/n:** Haha! My first Recess fic, and guess what? It's TJ/Spinelli! Overrated, yeah, but it's my boat to float, and besides, is there any other couple as cute as this one in the show? No, 'course not! I only hope I did them justice… heehee...

**disclaimer:** I don't own Disney' Recess, or the song 'I've Found A Way' by Drake Bell. Yeah, I love him. GO DRAKE!

Now. Go. Read. Now.

_**-**_

**_It's gonna take some time, to realize,_**

**_But if you look inside, I'm sure you'll find;_**

_**Over your shoulder you know that I told you**_

**_I'll always be pickin' you up when you're down,_**

**_So just turn around…_**

_-Drake Bell_

**0TS0**

"_Please?"_

"No." She quickened her pace, and he struggled to catch up.

He gripped her shoulder to make her stop. "Spinelli--"

"I said no," she snapped, cutting him off.

He seemed hurt. "It's not like it's for nothing, you know. I already told you, it's for…"

"Photography class. I get it. And the answer's no." She crossed her arms.

His look was questioning. "Why not?"

"I don't want to be some ditzy model for an aspiring photographer, not even if that aspiring photographer is you, Teej."

He sighed exasperatedly. "I'm _not _an aspiring photographer! The only reason I'm stuck with this stupid photography class is because you took up the last spot on wrestling and the only ones left are this and Home Ec… and as everyone knows, I've got enough failed classes as it is!"

She scoffed. "T.J. Dettweiler, _everyone_ knows I'm a much better wrestler than you, and besides…" She regarded him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "… I think you'd look very dashing in an apron." She let a giggle slip past her lips at her own sarcasm.

He was flustered, a cross between a flash of annoyance on his face and a tinge of desperation. In the end, the latter won.

"Spin..." He began

"Don' _Spin _me, T.J. The answer's no, never, not in a million years." She shrugged her shoulder to jerk off his hand, and took her steps in long strides. She heard the silent squeaks his sneakers made on the floor and turned her head to see him gone, only to face forward again to see him inches from her face. This time, his two hands were on both her shoulders, keeping her still.

"Come on, Ash," he pleaded, using that nickname she finally allowed him to use, but only between the two of them. "For me?"

Her expression softened and she found herself staring into his dark denim-blue eyes, and even if she always knew he could pull off a puppy pout, she didn't think she'd ever be victim to it. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and she could've sworn her heart did a funny flip thing.

"Fine…" she turned her head before she could get lost in his eyes. "… I'll do it… For you…" She stammered, but that was enough for him as a big grin broke into his face, and he began to jump for joy.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Spinelli! _You_ are the bestest, greatest friend in the world! I'll see you tomorrow at break time in study hall, 'kay?"

He ran off, forgetting he was supposed to be walking her home, before she could reply, so she could only mutter (disappointedly) under her breath, "That's what _friends_ are for."

**0TS0**

She always wondered why the ringing of a telephone was different from both sides. You know, like if you're the one calling and you're waiting for someone to pick up, it's this weird, low-key sound, but when you're the one being called it's that annoying, high-pitched noise that makes you want to pick it up so it'll go away.

She smirked, realizing how odd those thoughts were. Finally, after ages of endless ringing, she heard a muffled "Hello?" come from the other end.

"Teej? What's with your voice?"

There wasn't any reply for a couple of seconds, but when there was, his voice sounded normal.

"Oh, nothin'. I was trying to wear my shirt but I guessed I should answer the phone before you could hang up." She rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of the statement, but when she thought about it again, she thought it was kinda logical. Because of her wandering mind, there was only silence on the line as he waited for her to say something.

"What's up?" He asked.

She was snapped out of her trance. "Oh, yeah. Remember that photography thing you asked me about yesterday? Like how I'm supposed to model for you and all?"

"Yeah? What about it?"

"Well…" her cheeks suddenly turned pink, though he couldn't see it. She twirled the phone cord around her fingers. "What am I supposed to _wear_?"

She heard stifled laughter and was quite irritated. "What? Aren't models supposed to look nice and all made-up and everything? What are you laughing about?"

When he seemed to calm himself down, his tone was softer. "Sorry bout that, Spinelli. Is that why you didn't want to do it before? 'Cause you thought you'd have to dress up pink and preppy?"

Her fiddling stopped. "Well, aren't I supposed to?"

"Um, no, not really." He was uneasy, as if trying to think of a way to say it. "The theme for the pictures we're supposed to take are 'Ordinary in Motion,' so I got you."

She didn't know why, but she suddenly felt a sting from the comment. "So you think I'm ordinary? Average? Stereotype 'Boring Girl?'" Her scratchy voice became high and shrill from hysteria. He was quiet as if thinking of a comeback, so she continued.

"Figures, if you really wanted someone really pretty as your model, you could have gotten Ashley A. or one of those crapola cheerleader girly-girls."

He regained his voice, sounding absolutely flabbergasted. "Spin, I didn't mean it like _that_! I meant that you're… that you're a…"

By this time, she didn't want to hear him anymore. "You know, Theodore, I thought you were my friend, and that you liked me for _me_." Her tone was harsh and cold, but she didn't care. What he said had hurt, and she wanted to hurt him right back. "Goodbye."

She slammed the phone before he had anything to say about it, tears welling in her eyes. She stared at the fogging mirror and wiped the blur with her hand. When she saw how she looked, as if for them first time, she was horrified. Sure, she wasn't the most attractive girl around, and she didn't wear tube tops or skirts or make-up, and she did act like a boy, but he didn't have to rub it in! He was the last person on earth she thought would ever do so, since they've been pals since forever and _was _her best friend.

So did he always think she looked so awful? As she gazed at her reflection, she knew he did. The whole tomboy thing was tolerable in elementary school, but how did she look in middle school? Heck, even Gretchen had changed her appearance, and so did the rest of them! Was she just plain clueless?

The orange tweed hat was worn and dirty, her pigtails absurd, the red dress she wore under the leather jacket making her like a 2nd grader, and the shoes a cross between rain and old, construction worker boots. God, she did look horrible, and to think she pranced around in elementary looking like a clown.

'_Well,' _she told herself. _'I'm going to prove him wrong.'_

**0TS0**

By the time she'd entered her classroom she had already gotten accustomed to the widening eyes and the dropping jaws. The girls were mostly shell-shocked, and the boys either drooled or wolf-whistled as she sauntered by in her new look: iron-curled hair that reached her shoulders, her face fully made-up, a red tank top, tight black jeans, red platforms and matching accessories.

"So, uh… Spinelli, I guess that's why you didn't come to school this morning." Mikey remarked, stuttering. Gretchen looked fully amazed, by lack of a better word. Vince didn't share their first class, and Gus moved at the start of 7th grade, so the only person whose reaction she anticipated was none other than…

"_T.J.!_ Spinelli's here!" Mikey calling him over. He had been sitting at a desk at the far end of class, obviously bummed, but he came over anyway. When he caught sight of her, he froze in his tracks, blushing and surprised.

"Hello, Theodore." Her greeting was friendly, but they were said in a manner that one would regard their enemy. Spinelli locked eyes with him, hers secretly speaking to his; _'You were wrong, T.J. Dettweiler. For once in your life, you were wrong.'_

Mikey and Grethen were taken aback when she called him 'Theodore' and T.J.'s expression went from astonished to sad.

There was an uncomfortable silence between all of them. T.J. sighed and made his cap face front, pulling it over half of his face.

"Hey Spinelli," he choked out, then, bowing his head, shuffled back to his seat without a word.

She was still glaring hard at him, but she recovered and pursed her lips, eyes smoky.

"Well, Mike, Gretch," she said cooly, "Aren't you guys gonna show me where we're sittin'?"

They nodded, confused at both their friend's behaviors, and they occupied T.J.'s row, with her at the other side. Gretchen appeared to have gotten bored with the awkwardness and stood up to chat with another intellectual at the front of the class. Mikey excused himself and said that he'd just be getting some books from his locker outside.

So they were left alone in their row with two empty chairs between them. She had been tempted to glance at him, but when she did she caught him looking at her and he looked away, blushing again.

She totally didn't anticipate this situation. Sure, she was still mad at him, and she'd done all of this to torture him, but she didn't think he'd respond to it this way; not this sad and thoughtful, like he didn't even know her.

Their teacher entered a few minutes later and the class fumbled to return to their seats as he began to discuss the lesson, but she'd tuned them out. Something heavy weighed on her mind, and couldn't get it off no matter how hard she tried.

Giving in, she peeked at him at the corner of her eye, seeing that he was hunched in his chair, cap still lowered, doodling something in his notebook, though she doubted it was notes. She noticed him peek at her as well, then withdrew and bit his lip. She didn't really know what to make out of that.

Or maybe she did but didn't want to admit it.

Maybe _she _was the one who was wrong.

**0TS0**

Their next classes had come without much fuss, just some of the guys ogling her and the girls casting jealous looks in her direction. When lunch came, the gang seated at their usual table and once again, T.J. and Spinelli seated as far away from the other as possible. The other three had already gotten the hint and decided not to meddle and make things worse, as they probably will.

That thoughtful expression hadn't left T.J.'s face all morning, and he didn't seem to be in the mood for any fun or laughter, and he didn't seem to be hungry either as he only pushed his food around his plate.

Spinelli, on the other hand, had joined in the cheerful jokes and exchange of stories, but anyone who observed enough would instantly know that her happiness was faked and forced. When the bell rang, everyone got up from the table along with their trays. Spinelli wasn't done with her food yet but she motioned them away.

"It's okay, go ahead, I'll see you in class," she said, and they knew better to argue. As she finished, she looked up to see dark blue eyes gazing forlornly at her, and the butterflies returned. She didn't know he was still here. Their owner shoved his tray towards her and when she looked down, she saw something scrawled in big, bold letters on the plate with mac n' cheese.

'_I'M SORRY.'_

Something with a tart taste lingered in her mouth, and she remembered what it was. The pang of guilt and shame from her words earlier…

'_I thought you were my friend, and that you liked me for me.'_

Ouch.

But when she looked up again and opened her mouth to apologize, he wasn't there anymore.

**0TS0**

Classes rolled in without incident, and then came the time Spinelli feared: Break Time.

Glumly, she made it to study hall and seated herself at one of the chairs. A minute passed, and she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was T.J.

He had a flash camera dangling from his neck, hands in his pockets, without making eye contact. It was killing her.

"So… uh, you ready?"

"Uh-huh. Sure."

"'kay. Follow me."

He led her to a nearby classroom and made her sit down on one of the desks.

"And then you just sorta… pretend that you're in class… and… yeah…"

Man, she'd do anything to lose this discomfort between them. Anything.

She agreed blankly, taking a seat and getting some books from her bag. She idly flipped them open and toyed with a pen in her hand, occasionally pretending to write. Whatever it takes to please him.

He nodded with outward approval, now lifting the camera to his face and adjusting the lens or going nearer and farther, experimenting with lighting and positions. He'd only talk to her in minimal word responses, like 'Move over there,' 'Tilt your head a bit,' 'Cross your legs;' it was driving her crazy.

Apparently, it was driving him crazy, as he dropped the lens and lifted his arms up and bringing them to a wooden desk with a loud 'bam!' She gasped a bit, unused to his outbursts in front of her. The pencil rolled to the floor and for a long time it was the only sound in the classroom.

"I can't do this…!" He near-yelled, resting his palms on the desk and shaking his bowed head, eyes tightly closed.

"I'm sorry, Spin. I'm really sorry. It's just that… that…" He met her eyes with aggrieved azure ones, hopeless and anguished. Her own burned with the ferocity of unshed tears. Understanding each other had never been so painful. They never thought something like this would ever happen…

"What is it, Teej?" She whispered, tone threatening to break with emotion. He only gazed at her, through her, that eyes that saw all, filled with sadness.

"_You don't look like yourself anymore."_

When she closed her eyes, two trails of hot salty water streamed down her cheeks, and for the second time that day, when she searched for him again, he was gone.

**0TS0**

When she heard the click of the doorknob, she stood from her chair, hands covering her face, and fled from the classroom and into the girl's room. Thankfully, it was empty, or someone would truly question the situation. She trapped herself in a stall and sank to her knees, leaning against the cold linoleum tiles. It's been the fist time in what felt like years that she had cried, truly cried, with sobs racking through her body and shivering her skin; a strange, lingering sensation that numbs and enhances the senses at the same time. An escape, yet a vulnerability; a way of release, but unstoppable once you've started.

What had happened exactly? All she remembered was his request for her cooperation, then a call to his home, an array of tempers and misunderstood words, that all led them to this tangled mess. Such a stupid mess…

After she had sobbed out all her self-worth, she pushed herself to her feet and opened the stall door. She felt so wasted, like one who had tried booze for the first time and had the world's worst hangover; who had forgotten the red-faced thrills of it and wished they never tried it.

When she caught a look of herself in the reflective glass, her spirits dampened even more. If he thought she looked ugly before, what would he think now? The color in her cheeks were muddled streaks that stained her face, and sometimes they went into her mouth and they tasted like unsweetened coffee; black and strong and bitter. Her eyes, which had glowed with pride earlier, were swollen and the lipstick from her mouth smeared up to her cheek and faded. Her hair was had lost its curling glory; now her ebony strands fell lifeless and dead on her drooping frame. A tank top sleeve had descended down one shoulder.

'_Now,'_ her mirror image seemed to say. _'What do you say to this now?'_

"I don't know…" Was her dismal reply. "I've made a mess of things," she finally admitted. She opened the tap and only stared at the running water for a moment, then gathered some of the cool deposit in her cupped hands. It felt nice; refreshing and cool, then she brought it up to her face. Droplets smudged the pastel shades, and soon she washed the rest of everything else off until she saw herself again.

Underneath all that faze of glitter and bright colors, she was still just Ashley Spinelli. She knew that now. From now on, she'd always know that.

And it was time to let him know too.

**0TS0**

When she pushed open the door, there was someone waiting outside. It was him.

His head was bowed, arms crossed, and his entire frame was draped on the wall. When he spoke, his voice was deep, resentful.

"I made you cry… didn't I?"

There were still faded smudges of mascara on her face, which she instantly brushed off. "No… I… I mean…"

His neck craned up suddenly. "Do you know why I _really_ chose you?"

Tongue-tied, she shook her head feverishly, needy for the answer.

He stood straight up and bent his knees so his eyes were level with hers, palms gripping the ball of her shoulders, and in those few moments, she was aware of every move he made; the slight tremble of his fingers, the wavering cobalt eyes, the mouth so firmly bit inwardly as to only be a thin line outwardly, the bead of sweat trickling from his brow to symbolize exhaustion.

"**You were real."**

**0TS0**

Confusion found itself etched on her face.

"What do you mean, Teej? I… I just don't get it…"

He continued to lock eyes with hers, as if to let her see, no, _begging_ her to see the truth in them if he couldn't put into words.

"Spin, don't you see?" His fingers curled around her shoulders as if like a lifeline. "Look around you. Do you still see anyone who aren't pretenders? Hypocrites? People who act like something they're not? I'm sorry, Spin, but I just can't see anyone acting like themselves anymore… anyone but…

"Anyone but you."

"Teej, I…" Her tone still shook with the semblance of tears.

She didn't get to finish as she felt him wrap his arms around her in a tight hug.

"Please…" he whispered softly right above her ear. "Just… just say you forgive me, alright? _Please?_"

Only when he buried his face in her hair and felt something tingly and warm and wet on her neck did she realize that he was crying, and maybe it was because of that that she was crying too.

"Forgive me…" she said as he broke off. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "Forgive me too, and I promise we're even."

A smile, a real, genuine smile she hadn't seen since elementary school lit up his face as he took her hand in his.

"Deal."

**0TS0**

_TWO WEEKS LATER…_

Her delicate fingers swept over the framed photographs, wiping away a haze that blurred the vision. On the plain paper was the image of a girl with wild black hair, in a bomber jacket, a blue ruffles skirt, and red leg warmers and white sneakers. She was bent over a drinking fountain but not to sip the water, but seemed to be squirting it at the cameraperson, a smirk gracing her features with a gleam in her eye. Hallways suggested a school, shadows of dusk, the warmth of friendship. The photograph next to it showed the same girl, on her butt on the concrete ground, looking like she was dumped there; legs sprawled out and held up by her arms. She threw her head back in mirth, or it may seem so; if you look harder and closer, her mouth was open not in a chuckle, but agape because she had forgotten, eyes closed in serenity, raising her face to the sun. The other snapshots on the wall was of her as well; eating ice cream, folding a paper airplane, screaming in agitation, stomping on grass, living, laughing, loving.

The girl was her; the real her.

"This exhibit is a bore. Gus, Vince, Mike and Gretch already left. Sorry I dragged you into this mess," said a familiar voice behind her. Same old boy, same blue eyes, the same impish grin.

"No, it's actually kinda interesting. Your pictures turned out really nicely," she remarked. He shook his head, eyes warning her of an upcoming joke.

"The pictures of you, you mean. Narcissi."

She was amused. "You read Greek Mythology?"

He shrugged. "English report. It sucks, actually. The report, I mean." A hand motioned to touch the glass on one of the pictures, where she was staring innocently at the camera, the deception furthered by the messy, untied braid she forced her hair into.

"You look really pretty," he observed.

Impulse answered for her. "I'm no—"

A finger to her lips silenced her. "You are." For a good sweet moment they just stood there, looking shyly at each other. Then he pointed a thumb toward the exit.

"Hey, wanna get outta here and get some ice cream? My treat."

She rolled her eyes. "Duh. You know me, I'll never turn down free strawberry-peppermint milkshakes."

As they walked towards the door , they took one last look at the gallery where hundreds of pictures hung on walls.

"Just for the record," he broke the quiet. "I'm never picking up another camera again."

"Why is that?" said she, curiously.

He held the door open for her. "Well they, whoever they are, were wrong…

"Pictures don't last longer."

And the door closed behind them.

_fin_

**0TS0**

**a/n:** Aha! It's done:cringes: Truth be told I'm still feeling a little bit insecure about the way I wrote them: kinda OOC, I think. Oh, I don't know. I worked a little hard on this fic but I can't perfect it… arrgh, agherama! Well, since I wrote this when I was supposed to be studying for my Geometry exam when I just (maybe) failed my Algebra one, so please, I'm only asking you to take a few precious moments from your valuable to please tell me what you think when you

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